A Second Life. A novel

Front matter

I I I HUTCHINSON'S SELECT NOVELS In luindsome cloth, gilt, 3s. 6d. Uniform -with this Volume. Bv OLIVE SCHREINER. The Story of an African Farm. [Eightythird Thousand. By ADA CAMBRIDGE. Fidelis. [Third Edition. The Standard says : — " The novel is one to be recommended " A Marriage Ceremony. [Fourth Edition. The Athenæum says : — " It is a pleasure to read this novel." The S/eaI:er says : — " A very delightful story." By W. CLARK RUSSELL. The Tragedy of Ida Noble. With 41 Illustrations by Everard Hopkins. The Times says: — "Mr. Clark Russell has never written a belter story than ' The Tragedy of Ida Noble.' " By Mrs. ALEXANDER. A Second Life. The Heritage of Langdale. [Cheap Edition. [Cheap Edition. By Mrs. OLIPHANT. A House in Bloomsbury. [Fourth Edition. The Athenæum says : — " Mrs. Oliphant's grasp of character and her inventive power are still undiminished.

This is the best story she has written since ' Lady Vane.' " The Cuckoo in the Nest. With Illustrations by G. H. Edwards. [Sixth Edition. The Athenæum says: — "Mrs. Oliphant's most successful story." By ADELINE SERGEANT. The Mistress of Quest. [Third Edition. The Daily Telegraph says : — "It is no less ingeniously constructed than impressively .told — original in plot, rife with stirring incident, and palpitating with dramatic interest." HUTCHINSON & CO., 34 Paternoster Row. a IRovel BY MRS. ALEXANDER author of "the wooing o't," "which shall IT ee?" "the heritace of LANGDALE," ETC. ETC LONDON HUTCHINSON & CO. 34 PATERNOSTER ROW, E.C. TLo MRS. W. H. WILLS, IN MEMORY OF HAPPY HOURS DUE TO HER, THIS VOLUME IS AFFECTIONATELY 2)e£»icate&.

Chapter I

" There was a sound of revelry by night " in the usually sleepy old cathedral town of " St. Edmunds," well known for its Roman remains, and its near neighbourhood to that famous commercial seaport, Dockborough, for the gallant th Hussars were giving a ball, the brilliancy of which eclipsed all former festivities within the memory of that venerable personage, the oldest inhabitant. " I am awfully sorry, but I must leave you at the call of duty," said one of the hosts, a slight, well-built, good-looking young man, with bright, dark eyes, and a small, nearly black moustache, to his partner, as the band played the last bars of a waltz. " I have to take Lady Mildmay to supper. Here, here is a seat —beside Lady Mary Dacre — you know her ? " " Yes, a little," she said. His partner was a tall, willowy, very young girl, dressed with great simplicity in white satin.

She had a broad, low forehead and well-marked, delicate brows over a pair of dark, lustrous eyes, which made one forget all about their colour and the rest of her face. She had no regularity of feature, but her chin was finely oval, and her mouth, if rather wide, was red-lipped and infinitely sweet in expres sion. She looked up confidingly to her cavalier, for he was almost the only acquaintance (male acquaintance) she had in the crowd. A " Can you see my mother anywhere ? " she asked a little anxiously. " No. I think she has gone to supper. I want to in troduce a friend of mine to you if you will permit me." Here they reached the sofa on which Lady Mary was sitting, who made room for the young danseuse with a smile. "Oh, yes, of course." Trevor made his way swiftly through the groups which stood about to a gentleman in civilian garb, who was speaking to the Major.

"Well, Trevor, what is it?" he asked, as the young officer touched his arm. " I want you to dance the next dance with my partner — the belle of the ball, in my estimation," returned Trevor. " She is the only daughter of Carr, the rich Dockborough man. You must have met her brother with us at Leeds, Arthur Carr, a capital fellow, but went the pace rather too fast, and has been sent en penitence to Australia." Mildred Carr was quite sorry to exchange her original partner, whom she knew, and who was a friend of her brother, for a stranger — -a stranger, moreover, who had reddish hair, grey eyes, and a figure built more for strength than grace. " Miss Carr, let me present — " began Trevor, when the Major took his arm. " Come along, Trevor ! " he cried, " Lady Mildmay is waiting," and he hurried his junior away before he could pronounce his friend's name.

" I am but a poor substitute for Trevor," said Mildred's new cavalier, in a low, melodious voice. " May I hope for your guidance through the Lancers? " " I fear I can be of little use," said Mildred, rising to take his arm. " Going to dance ? " said Lady Mary, in a surprised, familiar way to Mildred's partner, with a contemptuous lift ing of the eyebrows. " Absolutely going to dance," he returned, and they went to take their places. The Lancers soon degenerated into confusion, and Mildred, feeling shy and somewhat at sea, only answered her strange partner's attempts at conversation by mono syllables. She was heartily glad when the dance was over, and Trevor brought back Mrs. Carr, a quiet, lady-like woman with silver streaks in her brown hair, and admirably dressed in black brocade, Brussels lace and diamonds.

While she did a little society dialogue with Lady Mary, Mildred was soon again revolving to the strains of the " Soldaten Lieder " with Trevor. When they paused he was eloquent in praise of her dancing, but he observed that she paid no attention to his words. " You don't deign to hear me, Miss Carr." " No, I did not," she said, turning to him with a slight start. "It seems very strange, but I am quite sure I caught sight of Mr. Welby, who is staying with us, among those gentlemen there, just fora moment. I suppose it could not be he. Let us take a turn round and stop near the door ; then you can ask." She was greatly startled, and, as Trevor put his arm round her, he felt her shiver. When they reached the group of men, Trevor observed a sort of movement and whispering among them ; then they divided to let the Colonel come through.

"Stay where you are, Trevor," he said, as he passed and went straight to Mrs. Carr. After a word or two, she rose hastily, and, taking his arm, came across to where Mildred stood. " My dear child, we must leave at once," she said, in an agitated voice ; " your father has been taken suddenly ill. Mr. Welby has been so good as to come for us." She was pale, and evidently much alarmed. Mildred sprang to her side, and catching her arm, clasped her hands round it. " Oh, is it — is it very dangerous ? Don't look so frightened, dearest ! " " I know nothing yet. Mr. Welby waits for us." The men at the door made way respectfully, and outside, in the brilliantly-lit, perfumed, decorated vestibule, stood a tall portly man, in morning-dress — a good-looking, florid man, with rather straight black hair, very dark eyes, and a full red lower lip.

He held his hat in his hand. " Mr. Welby — " began Mrs. Carr. " My dear lady, I thought it best to come at once for you. I left the doctor with him." " Oh, Mr. Welby ! Is there — is there immediate danger ? " " I can tell you nothing distinctly. We must hope even against hope ; but your carriage waits." Trevor brought the wraps, of which Mrs. Carr and Mildred had so gaily divested themselves but two hours before. " I trust in God you will find him better. I will ride out to-morrow to learn how all goes with you," said Trevor, pressing Mildred's hand, as he put her, silent and trembling, in the carriage. " One moment," he said, in a low voice, stopping Welby, who was descending the steps. " Tell me, is there any hope ? " " The man is dead ! " replied Welby in a quick whisper, and entering the carriage, they drove off rapidly.

That terrible drive home ! Six miles of road, heavy with slush ; the rain dashing fiercely against the glass to wind ward ; the blast howling over the open country, and roaring through the woods ! Never, in all the after years, could Mildred think of it without a shudder. Few words were exchanged. Mildred sat with her arms clasped round her mother, who was motionless, save for an occasional shivering sigh, which seemed to tremble through her whole frame. At first Mrs. Carr put a few questions. " How was he attacked ? " " He was found insensible — I am afraid from an over dose of chloral. I sent at once for Dr. Jeffries. He came directly, and I left him doing what he could." " There is little hope, then ? " said Mrs. Carr. " Very little, 1 fear." At last the steaming, panting horses stopped at the entrance of as sweet and fair a home as any in England.

The door was instantly flung open, and the lights in the hall streamed out into the murky night. A sedate man out of livery, an elderly woman in black with a widow's cap, and several female servants behind them, seemed to fill the space. But what crushed out the last faint embers of hope was the sight of Dr. Jeffries himself in the midst. He would not be there could he be of any further use to his patient. Mrs. Carr silently accepted his assistance to steady her trembling steps as she alighted and entered the house, closely followed by her daughter. Then, pausing under the lamp, she forced herself to ask with astonishing firmness : " Is it all over ? " The doctor, bowing with the profound respect a great grief demands, replied, " It is — " " Oh ! my God ! and I was away ! Could nothing be done ?

" " My dear madam ! he had been dead for more than an hour when I reached him." " Had I been here ! " exclaimed the unhappy widow. " Had I only been here ! " And she hurried to the stairs leading to her husband's private sitting-room, where she had left him, suffering indeed, but full of life, little more than four hours ago. Mildred, giddy, terrified, too dazed by the shock for tears, instinctively followed. Mr. Welby made a movement as if to prevent them. The doctor stopped him. " Let them go," he said. "The sight of the quiet dead will help them to bear their loss. There is something soothing in his look of profound repose." " Repose ! " echoed Mr. Welby, in a peculiar tone. " I am afraid our poor friend has known little, for many a day. I am afraid things will be found in a sad muddle."

"I trust not — I trust and believe not. Mr. Carr was universally respected. None of the other Dockborough people were ever accepted by the county families as he was; and though his establishment was most comfortable, indeed elegant, there was very little extravagance or show." " Well, I hope I am wrong ; but I suspect there are, or will be, heavy claims against the estate. Come into the dining-room ; there is a good fire there, I see." Those last sad moments spent beside the icy form from which the being we tenderly loved and depended on has escaped for ever — never again to give back a responsive word or look — never to hear our crying— never to help us or be repaid by us for all the little trespasses of which an aching heart accuses itself ! Where are the words that can describe them ? The bitter experience of many a reader can supply the picture. . . .

To Mildred, the loss of her father— deeply as she felt it — was second to the grief of witnessing her mother's deep, silent, overpowering sorrow. Poor Mildred did not know how to attack the despair within which she seemed im prisoned. It was all so strange, this awful thunderbolt which had fallen on the hitherto peaceful, velvety smooth ness of her happy life, withering the verdure and blooming joys of existence with the blast of its icy presence. She had loved her father, who was always kind and generous, though not over-sympathetic, with a distant, re spectful affection ; and latterly, too, he had been so silent and so much away that he had a little slipped out of her life. But her mother was her ideal — her dearest and most sympathising friend — in whose wisdom and tact she had unbounded confidence ; in whose gentle, refined good looks she exulted.

It was one of those rare friendships which intensify and preserve every love, be it between parent and child, husband and wife, brother and sister, without which nothing is strong, nothing is holy. Those dreadful lingering days, at once so swift, so slow — how full of unavoidable occupation — how drearily empty ! There was a curious element of suppression and mystery in them. The circumstances of Mr. Carr's death rendered an inquest unavoidable ; but the evidence of Dr. Jeffries and Mr. Welby reduced that painful ceremony to the work of an afternoon, and of which Mildred and her mother heard nothing. The former observed that her father's solicitor was constantly closeted with Mr. Welby, and that one or two strange men — not the funeral functionaries — came to and fro. Mrs. Carr and her daughter kept in their own part of the house, and saw nothing of Welby till the day but one after the funeral, when he asked for an interview with Mrs. Carr.

" Mr. Welby is very kind," said she, looking piteously at her daughter ; " but I cannot go to him to-day — to-morrow I shall be braver — let me be quiet to-day." " I will see him for you, dear ! " exclaimed Mildred, ready to throw herself into any breach that would save her mother ; " and, if necessary, I can tell you what he wants." " My mother is quite unable to see you or speak to you to day ; to-morrow she hopes to have more command over herself, and will gladly receive you," said Mildred, entering the library a few minutes later. Welby rose from his seat at a writing-table so covered with papers and account-books that nothing else was visible. " I am sorry for that," he said gravely ; " for I am ob liged to leave early to-morrow morning, for Dockborough, on your business. Come and sit down by the fire, Miss Carr — you are looking very sadly — and I will just say my say to you."

He drew a chair forward, and sat down beside her. After a moment's silence he began : " I am in some slight difficulty, as you may imagine, being neither a relative nor an executor, nor concerned in your poor father's affairs in any way, beyond being a friendly adviser, and willing so to continue — quite willing, my dear." With some slight hesitation he took her hand, and im prisoned it in his own fat red paw. "Thank you," said poor Mildred, readily returning his pressure. " I am so thankful you were here in our time of trouble. Must you go away ? " " I must — though I'd a good deal rather stay with you. But, as I said, I have no power of any kind, and can be of little use here. I will, of course, return. I will indeed." Mildred shivered a little. " Dear, dear ! you are very cold," said Mr. Welby, placing another big hand over hers, as it lay quite unresisting in his clasp.

" Of course I have given orders for what was immediately necessary, and I have telegraphed for your uncle." " Who ? Uncle William ? " " Yes ; he is, I believe, your father's only brother — your nearest of kin— probably your father's executor ; he will see to everything." " I have never seen much of him," said Mildred timidly. " He is a little cold and stiff, is he not? " " He is a man of respectability and a good deal of weight — a good deal," returned Welby, with some solemnity. " He will do all that's right. There is something unpleasant that I have to add, my dear ; but I feel it is my duty to warn you. I have reason to think that things won't be found very square, when they come to be looked into." He shifted his position, and let Mildred withdraw her hand. " How do you mean ?" she asked, puzzled.

" I mean that your poor father dabbled in some very unlucky speculations, so that there may be a regular smash up when your uncle conies to look into matters ; unless, indeed, he chooses to put them right, which isn't likely. So take my advice : if you have any jewels, or clothes, or books, or things of that sort you would like to keep, I'd just send them out of the way, to some friend's house— there's no telling what might happen." " Send away my clothes ! " repeated Mildred, opening her eyes in amazement. " Why should I ? " " Because," returned Welby, his face hardening, " your father's creditors will seize everything belonging to you. I warn you, though perhaps I oughtn't ; only, you see, I'd do a great deal for you. So you go and tell your mother. I daresay she is feeling bad — and it's a terrible dispensation, the mercy of which we cannot at present see ; but if she doesn't rouse herself and look about her, you'll be left with out a gown to your backs.

I am greatly afiaid Mrs. Carr's settlement is gone with the rest." " But, Mr. Welby, you must be mistaken. My dear father always had plenty of money. I never remember wanting anything he did not get for me. He — " " You may take my word for it, he has been living on credit for the last eighteen months — borrowing to tide over a pinch, borrowing to pay that, raising money right and left ■ and now — well, you may thank God he is out of the mess ! " Mildred rose up, a look of pitiable bewilderment on her fair young face. " And must we leave Oakdale — dear, dear Oakdale ? And my mother ! — oh, what will become of my mother ? Shall we have no money — nothing ? " she said brokenly. " I trust and hope something may be saved for you out of the wreck ; but it will not be much. You see, you had better know the truth."

" But, Mr. Welby, I — -I can do something to earn money to help. I know French — we were in Paris for some time ; and German — my German governess only left us at Christ mas ; and music, and a little drawing. Oh, I will do anything ! " " Very right and proper. And remember, you have a friend" — he took her hand — "a devoted friend, in me. At present I must not thrust myself forward until I know what are your uncle's wishes and intentions. Keep friends with him, my dear Miss Carr — my dear Mildred, if you don't mind my calling you so. He is one of the creditors, if I am not much mistaken ; though not to any great extent. Now I must let you go, though I would rather not ; but the sooner you explain matters to your poor mamma the better ; and don't you lose more time than you can in making the little arrangements I advised."

Mildred drew away the hand he still lingeringly held, looked at him with a startled, pained expression, infinitely touching, and walked slowly out of the room, away down a long low passage. Her pace grew still slower as she gazed at all the well known objects which met her eyes, with unspeakable, yearn ing tenderness. How was she to leave this beloved home ? How should she ever find the courage to tell her mother? Then the inspiration of sympathy suggested that at such a moment of supreme grief the loss of fortune and of home would seem of small importance. Indeed, Mildred herself by no means realised the full meaning of Mr. Welby's announcement. The fact that they should be obliged to leave Oakdale, and go she knew not whither, was all she clearly understood. Being poor meant having a tiny house, and one servant — two dresses instead of a dozen — dels instead of china — walking instead of driving ; but nothing so terrific after all !

Nay, the complete change might help her mother to bear her sorrow better ; only, what would she do without a carriage ? And Mrs. Carr had but frail health. Reflections which show how vague were Mildred's ideas of the realities she had to face. Still, as she thought, the sense of pain and difficulty grew upon her, and she stood in a window gazing away over the pretty but still wintry-looking garden, to the leafless woods, the remains of what had been a wide forest, beyond, dimly remembering the beauty of the scene in summer-time. One of the servants came down from the upper rooms as she stood lost in thought. The sight of her startled Mildred, and drew her back to the present. " Where is Mrs. Leavett ? " she asked. "In thehousekeeper'sroom, miss, giving the boyhis dinner." "Ask her to come to me, to my room," said Mildred, impelled by some instinct to take counsel with a true though humble friend, who had been assiduous in her soothing attentions to the sorrow-stricken widow.

Mrs. Leavett had been Mrs. Carr's maid when Mildred was born, and for nearly ten years after. She left service to marry a constant wooer, who had saved and scraped enough to start a small grocer's shop in London. This had proved successful, and all went well till a sharp attack of fever carried off the husband, and Mrs. Leavett was left to struggle on as best she could, and provide for a rather delicate boy of five or six years old. But nature had blessed her with business faculties, and the undertaking continued to thrive in her hands. A little before Christmas her precious boy had had measles, which reduced him to great weakness. With her usual kindness Mrs. Carr had asked the little fellow to come for change of air to Oakdale, where the reigning lady's-maid, assisted by Mildred, petted and tended him till he had grown strong and rosy.

Mrs. Leavett had come, therefore, a few days before to take her son back to town, and to enjoy a rare holiday herself. Mildred was standing by the fire, in her own pretty and luxurious room, when Mrs. Leavett entered in obedience to her summons — a square and rather rigid figure, neatly dressed in black, a widow's cap surmounting a broad, strong face, and iron-grey hair. "You wanted me, Miss Milly ? " " Yes ; I want to talk with you alone. The dear mother is at last sleeping. I have to tell her dreadful things when she wakes ! Dear Koo " (this had been Mildred's childish version of Mrs. Leavett's maiden name, ' M'Hugh,') — " Dear Koo, Mr. Welby says that there is no money left for us ; that my dear father has had great losses ; and he advises us to take away what clothes and jewels we have."

" Does he ? " said Mrs. Leavett, with a start. " It seems impossible ! What did he say ? " Mildred repeated the conversation as well as she could remember it. Mrs. Leavett listened with deep interest and serious looks. " This is a misfortune ! Is the gentleman a friend of your poor pa's, miss ? I don't remember him at the house in old times." "Yes ; I think he was a great deal with my father latterly." " I know the ups and downs in business is dreadful," said Mrs. Leavett thoughtfully. " I cannot a-bear to think of my dear mistress and you not having everything of the best ! I will not believe but that something must be left for you. Still, if a mercantile gentleman as Mr. Welby is says you had best get your things out of the way, it looks very bad, and you had best do what he bids you. If we make what we can safe, we can think of the rest after.

What shall we do ? I declare I feel that dazed and stupid ! But this won't do," said Mrs. Leavett resolutely, as she made a step to the table and drummed upon it in an absent way. " We mustn't let anyone suspect you of sending things out of the house. What o'clock is it, Miss Milly, my dear ? " " Half-past two." " Ah, the carriage is going to fetch your uncle from the station. I'll just go in with it, and start Dickie with my box off home, and you can put what you like in it. It is a big one, for I had no other to send with him." " But, Koo dear, what will the poor boy do without you ? " " Oh, I'll telegraph to my servant, Susan. She is a nice like girl enough, and will take care of Dick for a few days. In a time like this one mustn't stop at trifles. Go, Miss Milly, dear ; get all your mamma's rings and brooches and things, and your own, and what lace and best clothes you can lay your hands on.

I'll come and help you. I'll just step down and say you think the boy had better not stay in a house full of sorrow and trouble. It's a good chance, the carriage going in. You'd like me to stay a few days longer ? " " Oh yes, yes ! for heaven's sake don't leave us, dear Koo." "That I won't, if you want me." With tremulous courage Mildred nerved herself to pre pare her mother for the painful tidings Uncle William would probably have to communicate. To her great surprise, Mrs. Carr, at nearly the first word, appeared to understand what her daughter meant. " I have feared this for some little time," she said, with wonderful composure. " I knew your father was in some difficulty. Had he been spared, all would have come right ; as it is, I fear an utter collapse. There are evil times be fore us.

I shall feel it bitterly by and by. For the present I have no room in heart or mind, save for the thought of my cruel, irreparable loss ! " " And whatever comes, dear, dearest mother," cried Mildred, kneeling down and wrapping her arms around her, " we will bear it together, and help each other ! Try to hope for my sake, as I will for yours ! " " I will, my own love ; I will. Ah, if Arthur were here!" " Ah, yes ; if he only were ! " The arrival of Uncle William was also a trial, which poor Mildred forced herself to meet alone. His train was late, and it was past six before he reached Oakdale. He was a tall, thin, severe man, with a disagreeable frozen likeness to his late brother that pained Mildred inexpressibly. A solicitor, in large and highly respectable practice, he had never known the risks and hair-breadth escapes of commercial life.

That his brother should leave debt and failure behind him was simply unpardonable. " No insolvent or imperfect calculator can enter into the kingdom of heaven," was one of the first articles of his creed ; and having scriptural authority for visiting the sins of the fathers on the children (Mr. William Carr was " a sound Churchman "), he yielded to his natural inclinations, and met his niece with refrigerated politeness. Poor Mildred thought him cold and stiff when, in past days, she and her mother dined at his house, while spend ing a short time in London at a high-class hotel ; and surrounded with the aureole of wealth, she little dreamt into what regions of perpetual snow a profound sense of the sinfulness of failure elevates the believer. Mrs. Carr, feeling the importance of being friendly with her husband's executor, nerved herself to receive him in her pretty drawing-room, the sight of which raised a host of painful associations.

The nimble fingers of the chief dressmaker in St. Ed munds had already clothed the mourners in sable gar ments ; and the effect of the two dark figures, with their drooping air and pale, sad faces, might have touched any heart. In Mr. William Carr, however, emotion took the form of displeasure. The whole affair worried him exces sively. He liked the unbroken routine of an intensely respectable life ; he shrank from the idea of poverty, or doubtful transactions, or dilemmas of any description ; and here he was plunged to the neck in a perfect tangle of un pleasant worries. " Thank you for coming to us," said Mrs. Carr timidly. " Ahem ! " returned Uncle William. " Of course it was my duty to obey the summons of your excellent friend, Mr. Welby ; so I came at once, at no small inconvenience to myself.